The Last Exhale Read Free

devotion to the woman whose finger I put a ring on and stood before God and pledged forever to.
    She comes into the kitchen wearing a robe with frayed edges and a hole underneath the arm. An obvious romance killer. Her deep-set brown eyes search for her nightly drink.
    I tell her, “Poured it out.”
    â€œTold you I was coming right out.” She reaches up and grabs another glass from the cabinet, pulls the bottle from the fridge and pours her own drink. Takes a sip with closed eyes. “How was your day?” She shows a little interest in my life.
    â€œCould’ve been better.”
    Time keeps ticking. No time for small talk. I go ahead and tell her about the reservations. I already know she’s not going to want to go, her stiff shoulders tell me so.
    â€œWhy didn’t you say something earlier?”
    I shake my head. “Oh, no. Don’t try that. You know I’ve been trying to talk to you all day to no avail.”
    â€œYou still could’ve said something.” She takes a smooth sip of her wine, displays her level of control.
    Obviously, I’m the only one losing my cool at the moment. “Okay, you want to play that game.” I rub a hand across my forehead, wipe away the beads of sweat that have formed in this cold room. “Plus, I wanted to surprise you. But you’re too detached—Hell, I don’t know what you’re detached from. Me? This marriage? Life? I just don’t know anymore.”
    She drinks the rest of her wine. “I’m going to bed.”
    I grab her by the arm when she passes me. “See, this is what I’m talking about. We’re falling apart here and you’re going to bed?”
    Rene slides her arm from my grasp, moves a few feet away.
    I raise my hands in apology. “Didn’t mean to do that.” I’ve got to get myself together. Mentally and physically, I’ve got to get control.
    â€œWhat do you want from me?” Her arms folded.
    Wait, was that a hint of emotion in her voice? Maybe all hope is not lost. Maybe she can still feel my love for her.
    â€œI want my wife.” I move close to her, pull her close to me. Feelher slowly thawing in my embrace. Doesn’t last longer than a second before she turns back into ice.
    She pulls away, heads back upstairs.
    That’s it. I’ve had enough. Every time I think she’s relenting, she shuts me right back out. I grab my keys off the countertop. “Happy Anniversary,” I yell and slam the door behind me.

4
BRANDON
    T he chime of a soon-to-be empty gas tank transports me back to the present. I look for the next gas exit. When I grab the receipt, it tells me I’m in Montgomery, AL. Been driving for nearly three hours with Anthony Hamilton’s The Point of It All CD on repeat. My thoughts were so caught up in what my marriage has become I hadn’t realized I was in another state. I put the car in drive and get back on I-85 headed back north.
    Just as the night prepares to clock off and switch shifts with the dawn of a new day, my truck pulls into the garage next to Rene’s car.
    Home.
    The last place I want to be, but it’s where I lay my head at night.
    I’m dazed. Wondering what is the point of it all. This is not the way I planned to spend nine years of marital bliss. Maybe because it hasn’t been that blissful. I take that back. The first six were great. Rene and I shared so much love.
    We lived.
    We loved.
    We were one.
    I knew what she was thinking before her thoughts could even form. She always knew what I wanted before I even knew. We were in harmony, in sync. Every day felt like the first day. We were amazed with each other, discovering parts of one another we had never discovered. Every day was like that.
    Then, one day it all changed.
    I remember the day like it was last night. We had just finished making love. Her head was on my chest and she was twirling the only five pieces of chest hair I had